The Silver Butterfly
by Iambic Brose
Summary: Think of this. Harry Potter growing up with the Dursleys just a little more bitter. He comes out of it a little more jaded. Who knew that could change so many things? Especially when Severus Snape comes to rescue him from the Dursleys. (Rewrite!)


**A/N: Hey, Kas again, still doing this on my lonesome, but still may as well post it here! Yes, this is getting rewritten, but hopefully you'll like this version better. I think I do. This is also cross-posted on AO3, or you can find me on Dreamwidth and Pillowfort, all under the name Kasena. Hope to see you there!**

* * *

"My Lord," the soft voice said, drawing his attention from where they had been planning the next few stages of their plans. Only his most trusted were allowed in the room, allowing him to not concern himself with the identity of whomever was speaking to him.

He turned his head to address his Death Eater properly… Ah, of course. "Yes, Severus." His loyal spy on the inside. Poor, simpering Dumbledore thought that Severus was still on his side, the old fool. Of course, how could he know that Severus was truly on his side, feeding him information of Dumbledore's precious 'Order' he seemed so protective over? Severus did play the part well, after all, from what he'd seen.

Severus saw that he had his proper attention and gave him a nod. "My Lord, I have just overheard at the Hog's Head. There has been a new prophecy created, told directly to Dumbledore, unfortunately."

Now, he was frowning as Severus spoke. A new prophecy, yes? This could interfere with things. "Speak freely, Severus. Tell me what was said."

"There will be a prophesied child born to defeat you, My Lord." Voldemort thought this over. A child born to defeat him? How on earth could a simple child defeat him? But then, if that child did grow under Dumbledore's teachings and the way of that Order… Of course. He couldn't allow that. He would need to end this before it became a problem.

He slowly nodded, waving the rest of his followers away. Without a word, they stood and left, he and Severus alone to discuss this new topic. "And did you learn anything of this child, Severus?"

Severus nodded as he sat across from him, the two both watching each other evenly. "He will be born with the power to vanquish you, supposedly." He only nodded for Severus to continue, and the man leapt on the opportunity to tell all that he had learned. "Born to those who have now three times defied you, and born as the seventh month dies. That was, unfortunately, all I was able to hear before I was found out and escorted out of the establishment."

"Thank you, Severus," he told him. "This should surely be enough to learn what child is supposedly meant to defeat me. And perhaps, also, we will nip this problem in the bud?"

The young man nodded. "Of course. You have me at your disposal, as always, My Lord."

Voldemort smirked just as Severus stood and began to make his leave. "Thank you, Severus. Please send the others. I will need to plan accordingly to this new development."

"Yes, My Lord." Born to those who have now three times defied him, as the seventh month dies… He would certainly need to research this more. Few who defied him once lived to tell the tale, let alone three times.

* * *

"My Lord." Ah, Severus, of course. It was so very kind of him, of course, to tell him of this prophecy, and now he found exactly which child had been foretold to lead to his defeat. How idiotic that they had predicted a _child_ to be the cause of his defeat. This would certainly prove to them that he could never be defeated by no man, woman, or child. "My Lord, I don't believe the Potter boy to be the child of the Prophecy."

Voldemort rose an eyebrow. That was unlike Severus to disagree so blatantly with one of his decisions. Perhaps there was some merit to his claim, then. "And who then, Severus, do you propose is the child of the Prophecy?"

Severus gave him a respectful nod. Good. It was a good thing for his followers to always know their places, even when disagreeing with him. "The Longbottom's son, he perfectly fits within the prophecy. Born at the end of the seventh month, along with his parents having three times now defied you. The prophecy could easily be about him, as well."

He thought this over before slowly nodding. Severus did have a point, and he had also considered this to be a possibility. Perhaps Severus was correct. It would do no good to leave one child, then. "I suppose you could be correct, Severus. I will see to this. Bellatrix," he called.

The young woman immediately came at his call, keeping her head down as she glanced up at him, her hair falling in front of her face as she did. Stupid girl. "Yes, My Lord?"

"I would like you to take care of the Longbottoms in whatever way you see fit," he told her with hardly a look towards her. He was certain that with these sort of orders, Bellatrix would follow them with glee and pride. "Just whatever will not allow their son to be raised to see to my defeat."

She nodded, a wicked smile creeping across her face as he could already see ideas of different ways to fulfill his request flitting through her thoughts. "Of course, My Lord. Shall I go now?"

He smirked and gave her a nod and waved his fingers gently at her. "No reason to delay it. See to it, Bellatrix. I still must find a way to the Potter's hidden safe-house." As she left his presence, he glanced back to Severus, raising an eyebrow at him once again. "Are you well satisfied?"

He seemed about to speak before considering his words, and giving a shake of his head. "No, My Lord. I- I must make a request of you."

Very out of the ordinary. This must have been incredibly important to him. They would see just what this request was, then he would decide whether or not he would grant it. He couldn't have his followers becoming too comfortable and complacent, after all. "Speak, Severus."

"The mother. Lily Evans," Severus said, speaking quickly.

"I take it you mean Lily Potter?" he asked, taking careful note of seeing Severus wincing at the correction.

"Spare her," he asked- No. He _pleaded._ Hm. Incredibly important to him, then. "Kill the son, kill the father if you must, but please, spare Lily."

"You are letting your weakness rule you, Severus," he told the young man. He did need a small lesson in not letting his emotions get in the way of their way of life. "But very well. If only because you have proved yourself to be loyal, and I know you only ask for your own interests. Thought if she gets in my way, I will be forced to kill her. I will not allow her to live should she force my hand. Am I understood?"

Severus nodded again, this time his face remaining bowed towards the ground. Good. He need remember he was not the one giving orders, he was the one following them, and Voldemort was the one merciful enough to be granting his insipid requests of 'love.' Perhaps that would be his next goal. Disconnecting wizards from this emotion which proved to be torturous, if the behavior of his own followers was anything to go by. "Yes, My Lord. Thank you, My Lord."

He looked to the map on the table in front of them and stood over it, his hands on either side of the table as his eyes grazed across the names of towns and roads. "Now, we simply need to find them."

* * *

 _How… absolutely muggle,_ he thought to himself as he looked over the small, tidy house. That was what it was. Their residence was so completely mundane and muggle. How pitiful, knowing the status of the Potters'. Though perhaps, as Lucius had told him they were of relatively new money, perhaps they did not have an ancestral home similar to the Blacks, or the Malfoys. Still, he was here for one simple purpose. He approached the door and could see through the front window. The two parents were playing with the small babe. How revolting. They knew that they were in a safehouse, that they were being hidden from the most powerful wizard in all of the Wizarding World, and they only played with their child as though all was well.

Pointing his wand at the door, he simply said, " _Bombarda._ " The door tore itself to shreds, and he stepped inside, the husband the first to greet him. No wand. Far too simple. Did he truly believe he could hold back the greatest wizard to live with nothing but his own two hands? This would be too easy.

"Lily!" He cried, his wife already carrying the baby. "Take Harry and go!" Harry. Perhaps short for something? No matter. As she fled upstairs, the elder Potter attempted to wrestle him to the ground.

A sad attempt, as a simple " _Avada Kedavra_ " took care of it rather quickly. The father fell to the ground, his hands still clenched as though trying to grasp for him, even in death. Pitiful. Ascending the stairs, he found a door at the end of the hall locked. Blasting it as well, he entered the room, and noted that multiple pieces of furniture had been overturned, perhaps to attempt to block the door. She stood in front of the child's crib, no way for him to get around her. "Step aside, girl," he told her sternly.

"No, I won't let you kill him! Kill me, instead! It's me you really want!" Oh, honestly. Mothers were always the worst victims.

"Move to the side, and you will be spared. I have no quarrel with you. I am only here for the boy," he told her plainly, watching as her eyes hardened and her chin lifted as though she were planning to fight him the same way her husband had.

"If you want to kill Harry, you'll have to kill me, first." If she insisted.

" _Avada Kedavra,_ " he said, his wand pointed at her. His ears rang with her last scream, the woman prone on the ground. The child had been laughing and giggling up until that moment, apparently not concerned with the events, but now as he stared up at Voldemort, he began to wail and cry, his face growing red.

He didn't like the sound. Steeling himself, he narrowed his eyes at the baby and pointed his wand directly at his face, forcing the child to come face-to-face with the last thing he would see before his death. And with this death, he would be unstoppable. No 'prophesied child' would ever grow to vanquish him. He grinned wickedly down at the little babe on the cot, and spoke softly, " _Avada Kedavra._ "

* * *

Petunia woke early that morning, as she did every morning, to Dudley's screaming and tantrum-throwing. But she did love him. She forced herself out of bed and down the stairs to the kitchen, warming a bottle of milk for him to enjoy before she properly made him breakfast. Speaking of milk, she glanced to the milk bottles. Her nose wrinkled at seeing they were all empty. She needed to put them out that morning, then. Taking each of the bottles, she put them in their small carrier and headed for the door. Once she opened the door, Petunia shrieked, the small carrier slipping from her grip, and the bottles all shattering.

"Petunia!" she heard Vernon shout, the house rumbling as the man hurried down the stairs. "Petunia, darling, are you alright-" She heard him stop at the bottom of the steps. "Petunia?"

She stooped down and carefully picked up the basket at the foot of the door, holding it at arm's length. "It- It's Lily's. It's Lily's boy, the one she had with that vagabond."

Vernon seemed to startle beside her, and she watched him kick the glass aside. "Harry Potter…" Why on Earth did he say it as though he already knew the name well? "Petunia, there's a letter."

She looked to the little boy's hand to see that her husband was correct, and that 'Harry' was indeed holding a letter in his hand. "Vernon," she murmured, now uncaring of her Duddie-kins' crying upstairs. "Vernon, you take him, I'll read this letter and find out why exactly they've dropped him here, and why neither of them are here with him.

Though Vernon blanched, he glanced to Petunia and nodded. "Alright. I'll go and set him on the sofa. I suppose I had ought to call into the office today, as well, until we sort this mess out."

Petunia watched as her husband took the basket, containing the now-whimpering Potter baby into the sitting room. She stood in the hall, letter in her hand as she slowly opened it and began to read it.

' _Mr. and Mrs. Dursley,_

 _May I thank you in advance for taking in little Harry James Potter. I'm certain that when he grows to be a little older, he will appreciate it greatly._

 _Allow me to introduce myself. I am Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore. Supreme Mugwump of the International Confederation of Wizards, Chief Warlock of the Wizengamot, leader of the Order of the Phoenix, Grand Sorcerer, and Headmaster of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. And you are Petunia Evans Dursley, wife of Vernon Dursley, stay-at-home mother of Dudley Dursley, and member of your neighborhood book club, as I understand it. Now that we've introductions and titles out of the way, I'm afraid we must get to business._

 _I've been told that you, in recent years, have not been in contact with your sister. A true shame, as sisters are something wonderful to cherish in this world. Alas, do not allow me to tell you what way to live your life. Though I'm afraid I must insist upon one thing. A horrible fate has befallen Lily Evans Potter, and she is no longer with us. I leave with this letter her son, the sole survivor of an attack against the Potters by a man we thought near undefeatable. This man seems to be no more, but one can never be sure, and we are always wary of those that follow him. I give her son to you for this reason._

 _While Harry is able to call wherever you live 'home,' he will be protected. Lily gave him a protection before she died, and as you are her sister and his aunt, this protection lives on in the two of you. This protection will break upon his seventeenth birthday. This boy will be known widely in our world as the Chosen One. The Savior of the Wizarding World. I ask that you protect him, and keep him far from this world until the time comes. That much weight and prestige will go to a boy's head, and I'm afraid Harry will not be exempt._

 _I'm certain your son will get along wonderfully with his cousin. Please do keep my words in mind._

 _Sincerely, and with my condolences,_

 _Albus Dumbledore_ '

Shaking and trembling as she walked, Petunia slowly made her way back to the sitting room where her husband was sitting on the opposite side of Harry Potter, watching him warily. "They're dead," she managed to say. "My sister, and her husband. They're both dead."

He stared up at her, gruffly shaking his head. "We can't take him in. He must have other relatives. Others like _him._ "

Petunia could only shake her head. "They were both murdered. The only way for him to remain protected is to live here, with us." Having now began to process it all, Petunia reacted again to Dudley's crying in his upstairs nursery. "Watch him, I need to go take care of Dudley."

She walked back to the kitchen and picked up the bottle, internally grateful that it was still warm enough that her little Dudder wouldn't be too upset about it. Forcing herself up to his room, Petunia opened the door and picked Dudley up into her arms, giving him the bottle of milk as well. "Good morning, Dudley darling. Did you sleep well?" He cared not for answering her, far too entranced by his morning milk, and apparently racing himself and attempting to beat his previous times in finishing a bottle. As a mother, it was rather impressive how quickly he could finish a bottle and begin to ask for another.

Petunia held him close, smiling and stroking his cheek. She swayed from one hip to the other to keep him calm, the baby gurgling and cooing when he occasionally came up for air. "Why don't we go downstairs, Dudley? Mumsy needs to make you and your father breakfast, and you can meet your cousin. His name is Harry. I hope you can try to both get along." Ought to… To welcome the new addition.


End file.
